


Delirium

by Auraspirit157



Category: The Binding of Isaac (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Demons Are Assholes, Despair, Gen, Heartache, Hope, Human Experimentation, Illusions, Insanity, Mental Health Issues, Rebirth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auraspirit157/pseuds/Auraspirit157
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping his mother, Isaac is swept up by the mysterious Archangel Organization. Ten years in their hands, and he feels safe away from the cruel world. But this place of refuge has dark intentions, holding others who can travel into worlds unseen. With the help of the shadowy demon Azazel, Isaac attempts to figure out what he truly desires, and to seek the life he never knew he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delirium

**Author's Note:**

> Hello mortals.  
> This is a bit different from my usual fair, but I figured I’d take a crack at. I love The Binding of Isaac and all it’s creepy shit, and how much of it is left up to interpretation. This story takes place several years after the events of the game, and is an AU as a story can be with so many different interpretations. It steps primarily after the ending you get upon killing The Lamb.

“What’s your name?”

“Isaac.”

“Your last name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has a last name”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

It was always the same questions with the same answers for Dr. Violet Monroe. The young man in front of her was a case no one could seem to solve. She still remembered when he was first brought in: a doe-eyed, crying boy who’s past was unknown and carried many scars.

It was years since that day and it seemed that his particular psychosis was impossible to reveal, or even barely fathom. 

The young man grew well despite his original struggle with the new environment. He matured into a delicately framed figure, his jaw and cheekbones tentatively curved, hair grown out to an abnormal blonde-white. His eyes, she found unsettling, two black marbles that showed no malice yet still disturbed many who studied him. He said little, but thought a great deal, eternally locked in his own head. 

The Archangel Organization had been surveying a particular house on a hill for some time, taking note when the son of the woman who lived there stopped running out to catch the bus every morning. They could barely imagine what was happening to him within. 

His mother was uninformative, as they did approach the house multiple times to inquire about his disappearance. She ignored them after some time, never seeming to leave the home herself. Until one day, when she started to pin up missing person signs around the tiny rural community. 

They found Isaac curled up several miles away, crying hysterically, completely naked, hugging a long dead cat in his arms. He couldn’t have been older then seven at the time, all too willing to be in the company of strangers. Yet, as soon as they mentioned home, he was shouting and thrashing about like a wild animal, screaming about his mother.

His mother would kill him, he said. His mother would kill him because God told her to. 

Now, ten years later, he was still a near insolvable mystery of a boy. However, he was one of multiple children they found with the strange ability to pass into Limbo. They knew little about these children, these “Drifters” as they’d taken to calling them, but that’s what the Archangel Organization was there for. 

She’s startled when someone snaps in her face. Her focus goes to the boy in front of her and the hand he used to snap, his scarred slender fingers moving away upon her gaze. 

“I think you got distracted, ma’am.” He says softly, as if not wanting to offend, “This is usually the part when you ask how I’m doing today.” 

“Right, sorry, “ Violet clears her throat as she says so, straightening the papers on the table between them, “How are you doing today?”

“I had a funny dream last night.” He smiles just a little bit, shifting in his chair, “I was at home with mother. I was drawing pictures on the floor a-and mom was watching TV like she always did. And dad came home and he brought a pizza!” he laughs lightly, “Mom loved pizza. She could eat a whole one all by herself.”

Dr. Monroe watches him with a bit of confusion, “I’m sorry but…how is that a funny story?”

Isaac laughs rather suddenly, “It’s funny because dad never came home like that!” he laughs again, speaking through it, “let alone bringing pizza! I mean that’s the funniest joke I ever heard! Almost as funny as the one about mom taking care of herself for once! Or the one about her taking less pills at night…” his laughter slowly dies, “O-or the one about her tucking me in at night, telling me there were no monsters under the bed. Or…or the one about her giving me a hug when I’m scared…” 

He had stopped laughing, voice soft but steady, “Aren’t those funny jokes, doctor?”

The good doctor stared right back at him, “…That’s all for today, Isaac.” She stands, nodding to security standing at the door, “You ought to get some rest.”

He nods, standing as a guard takes his shoulder, walking toward the door with him.

But something was still bothering Dr. Monroe, “Isaac?”

The strange boy turns, but not completely out of the guard’s grip. He never struggled. “Yes?”

“Your father…you never mentioned him before. Do you remember him well?”

“…He was the smartest man you’d ever meet.”

“Why do you say that?”

Isaac was watching her steadily, “Because he left when he had the chance.”

Violet is startled by the chill in his voice, but swallows it back, “…Get some rest, Isaac.”

And he responded, as he always did, “Yes ma’am.” 

~888~

Isaac was used to being a prisoner.

But he liked it in the Archangel facility. He felt safe there, even a bit happy. There was always a warm bed to sleep in and funny pills that helped him sleep. He was even fed well. Sure, the doctors did odd things to him, but they were only trying to help, maybe even stop the terrible trips to what they called Limbo. 

The young man looks around as he’s guided down the hall, the whitewashed walls clean and sterile, their footsteps echoing. He wished there was a bit more color, but he wasn’t one to complain, never had been. 

A lot of noise is heard up ahead, disturbing the silence of the place. The guard guiding him around stops to listen, then rolls his eyes, “God dammit it’s that other fucking drifter again.” He turns to Isaac, sitting him down on a chair in the hall, “listen, I’m going to take care of this. You—“ he takes out a set of handcuffs, locking the boy’s hands in front of him, “—stay here.” 

Then he’s gone, running off to the noise. Isaac stays put, looking about the hall, occasionally shifting wrists in the cuffs. The bindings weren’t necessary, though it rather reminded him of a biblical tale his mother read to him. What was the name…?

He turns suddenly, watching the guard who had been guiding him slamming hard into the wall. A much younger man comes around corner, catching himself, covering his mouth and laughing, “Oh shit, I cracked the wall! That was fucking sick!” 

Isaac tilts his head curiously, not recognizing the swearing stranger. According to the guard before, he was a problematic Drifter. It wouldn’t surprise him, as Isaac rarely dealt outside his own room. He preferred solitude; he was used to solitude.

Stuck in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice the stranger running right at him.

“Hey, are you a Drifter too?” the stranger is in front of him now, grabbing his shoulders, “Here, I’ll help you out! We can get out of here together!”  
But Isaac shakes his head, “Oh no, I’m alright. The guard told me to stay here.” 

The stranger stares at him, dark eyes sparked with confusion, “…That’s funny.” He says, adjusting the red band about his head, “Why the hell would you want to stay here?” 

With one swift movement he snaps the handcuffs around Isaac’s wrists, pulling him up and down the hall.

“It’s really okay! I like it here!” Isaac speaks as he’s dragged rather effortlessly through the winding halls.

The stranger huffs as he stops for a moment, trying to choose a direction to go,  
“Like it here? How could you possibly like being in this hellhole?” 

“It’s safe here.”

“It’s awful here you idiot!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Haven’t then done awful things to you?”

“They could be a whole lot worse.”

“You…damn you’re serious.” The strong Drifter is baffled, something Isaac didn’t understand. Hasn’t he had a horrible experience with this power as well? How odd that someone wouldn’t enjoy safety, risking their life to throw it away…

His mind was drifting again, than snapped back at the sound of the red-band stranger’s cry. A security guard had tackled him, it seemed, another forcing a syringe into his neck. So entranced by the struggle, Isaac failed to notice yet another guard come up behind, slipping his arms around him and pulling him away down the hall. 

“But…” Isaac speaks softly, hardly loud enough for his guide to hear. He tries to turn to see the stranger, but he’s unconscious. That wasn’t right…they never rendered Isaac unconscious without good reason, let alone with such roughness. 

“Don’t worry about him, kid.” The guard mutters, though he’s not motivated to comfort him, “He’ll be fine, this happens a lot.”

Isaac rears his head so he can look at his guide, “Why did you have to hurt him like that?” 

“Did you see what he did to the man that was bringing you back to your room?” he was speaking as if Isaac were a child again, “not all Drifters are obedient like you.”  
_Obedience._ _What has obedience ever gotten you?_

A familiar voice slipped into Isaac’s ear, hissing, scratching at him. He ignores it, but somehow he knew it had a point. What has obedience ever gotten him in his life? What kind of life was this exactly? It certainly wasn’t the kind he heard of in the few books he read, or in the commercials he watched between mother’s Christian programming. Smiling faces…playing in the sun…loving each other’s company…

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shadow gliding along the wall. It’s his own, but not the same shape. It shifted oddly, like it had a mind of its own. He watches it, slowing his pace, his guide talking but he couldn’t hear him. His shadow pulls ahead, rushing down the hall. 

“W-wait!” Isaac cries out, not realizing how loud he is, chasing after his shadow. Distantly the guard is following, but he seems far away. Everything was changing, the walls darkening, the tile under his feet turning to stone, crushed bones in his path. 

Harsh laughter makes him run faster, the floor seeming to decline, the shadow not slowing. It was all so familiar. The walls, the descent, the blood the laughter; it was the basement. Everything he knew was from the basement.

He charges around the corner, finding a dead end, his shadow waiting for him. Isaac edges closer, feeling the fright from so many days traveling in his own personal hell. But he couldn’t be afraid; this was a part of him now.

His shadow seems frightened too, but then rises from the ground, solidifying, becoming someone knew. A demon, of black skin and curved horns, red marbles for eyes, bat like wings on his back. He was so familiar…

Then the demon spoke, his voice so similar to his own, “Isaac?”

The name slips out of Isaac’s lips before he can register his knowledge of it, “Azazel?”

“It’s…been a long time, hasn’t it?” the demon Azazel tilts his head, like a curious bird, “You’re taller.”

“You look different too…” Isaac speaks in a daze, “But why are you here? Now?”

He doesn’t initially answer, then looks around, as if what he was about to say was top secret. He leans closer, whispering softly, “Because you’re suffering, Isaac.” 

“Suffering? I’m not—“  
“That’s the worst part, isn’t it? You don’t even know how pained you are.”

“I don’t feel like I’m…suffering. Not like before.”

“You can’t feel your soul. You’re mortal.”

“Why do you care?”

“Ah…” the demon straightens, smiling ever so slight, sharp fangs beneath his lips, “Because I’m a part of you. You and I…we’ve been through a lot together.” He moves the white fringe from Isaac’s eye, looking at him directly, “…We can escape together.”

Isaac’s eyes widen, shoving away from the demon, “N-no! I’m safe here; don’t you see that? No one…no one on the outside has ever treated me well! How will it ever be better if I leave?”

“You never had a life on the outside!” Azazel hisses bitterly, “You’ve been locked up your entire life practically. All you know is the four walls of some prison, whether it be here or your own bedroom!”

“Stop!” Isaac was falling fast, everything blurring together in his head, “I can’t—I won’t—You don’t know anything! I’m safe here! I feel safe here and no one will ever hurt me again!”

Azazel watches him with narrowed marble eyes, “Oh, they hurt you.” He tilts his head, “I’ll make you understand…and you’ll want to leave, just like how you left your dear mother.” 

Then he was gone, and Isaac was curled on the floor. He could feel the walls closing in on him, the tears welling in his eyes. It was dark…everything was so confused in the darkness, but somehow it was so comforting to him. Someone was shaking him, picking him up, but he could barely feel it. 

There was something he was missing, something he needed to understand.

But all he understood now was how deeply he abhorred such a cruel world.


End file.
